


Let Him Go

by wafflesandkruge



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, king of scars spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 08:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17679599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesandkruge/pseuds/wafflesandkruge
Summary: Zoya always knew that one day she'd need to let Nikolai go. It's his wedding day and she is not Ravka's new queen.





	Let Him Go

Zoya kept a smile pasted on her face as she shook hands with what surely had to be the most boring people in the world. They just kept on coming, expecting to be formally greeted by Ravka’s second-in-command before taking a seat in the spacious church. With each painfully polite word, Zoya’s irritation bubbled to the surface. She shook the Kerch Minister of Finance’s hand as quickly as possible, then slid over to where Genya was consulting a seating chart. The other grisha was clearly distraught as she wrung her hands and muttered about Fjerdan feuds with the Shu dignitaries. 

“I need some air,” Zoya hissed at her. “Have David take my place.”

Genya nodded distractedly and waved her away. With the help of her powers, Zoya was at the lake in mere moments. She’d taken to the spot after hours of trying to learn how to summon water with little to no success. Today, the water sparkled as it refracted sunlight and birds chirped happily as if they could sense the monumental event taking place today.

“Traitors,” Zoya muttered. 

“Who are you accusing of treason, Commander Nazyalensky?” a familiar voice drawled from behind her. Zoya stiffened and mentally counted to ten before slowly pivoting around.

“Your majesty.”

Instead of his usual military garb, today Nikolai was dressed like a king. His jacket and pants were a pale blue that contrasted with the bright white cape fastened around his shoulders. The Ravkan double eagle was picked out in gold thread on his jacket. His stance was relaxed and unguarded, the exact opposite of Zoya.

Nikolai waved a dismissive hand. “None of that. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be greeting our esteemed guests.”

“One can only shake hands with similar looking old men for so long before going mad.”

“Ah, you have a taste for younger men then,” he said with a smirk. “Am I a candidate for the object of your affections?”

“Nikolai, it’s your wedding day. Don’t do anything that could stir up rumours and lead the Shu to retaliate.” She crossed her arms and took a step back.

“I know. Zoya-” he hesitated for a moment. “This is a purely political marriage. There’s no feeling behind it, I assure you.”

“Why would that matter to me? I’m only here to make sure Ravka doesn’t fall apart and this marriage ensures that.” She chose her next words carefully and squared her shoulders. “I hope you grow to love her for the sake of our country.”

She might as well have struck him with lightning. His face fell and he came a couple steps closer. He tried reaching for her arm. “Zoya-”

She waved a hand and a gust of wind sent him stumbling back. “Don’t. I’ll see you at the wedding, your majesty.”

And then she walked away from her king, her friend, and her love.

* * *

The Shu princess truly was radiant, Zoya grudgingly admitted. From where she stood at the front of the church with the other members of the Triumvirate and Nikolai, she could admire the elaborate golden headdress and gown she’d probably been forced into. But none of her previous protests of the union were visible on her now serene face. Zoya let out a small snort. She’d probably begged Genya to tailor away the obvious signs of crying and sleeplessness.

Ehri Kir-Taban moved down the aisle slowly, eyes downcast behind the sheer veil. Zoya’s fingers twitched. She’d seen the budget for this wedding and knew for a fact that that veil was worth more than what a peasant would make in their lifetime. The extravagance was something they could barely afford, even with heavy loans from the Kerch. Nikolai had justified it as a show of power. Zoya thought it was his pirate tendencies for flashy spectacles. 

Speaking of Nikolai- Zoya shifted her gaze to the right and observed her king. He stood regally as he watched his bride approach. He didn’t betray an ounce of anxiety. It was a sight from a fairy tale; the golden king and his golden queen. 

Each row of attendees rose as she passed. It seemed to take her hours to reach the front where Nikolai smiled and took her elbow before they knelt at the feet of the priest. The rather elderly man motioned for everyone to sit, then started reciting something in old Ravkan. Zoya tuned him out as she scanned the crowd. Most looked bored, which was good. Better uninterested politicians than assassination attempts. 

She snuck another look at Nikolai. He seemed to be looking at her too and their eyes connected for a split second. His hazel eyes seemed to be full of longing- or maybe pleading. Zoya wasn’t the best at these emotions. She shifted her gaze to the rafters and dug her fingers into one of her fetters behind her back. This was going to happen, whether she wanted it or not- for the good of Ravka. 

Something primal rose inside her and Juris stirred.  _ You are a dragon. Take what is yours. Ours.  _

Her power stirred without her bidding and a tiny breeze ruffled her hair.  _ Stop. This is for Ravka.  _

_ Mine. MINE. HE IS MINE. _

Zoya sucked in a sharp breath as Juris awoke inside her. A gust of wind slammed into the building from the outside, rattling the windows. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice and the service continued.

_ Juris, stop.  _ Zoya clamped down on her power and tried to force Juris’ consciousness down. It felt wrong, like she was ripping away her other half. He snarled and resisted, giving her a splitting headache. The fetters were burning hot against her skin. 

_ MINE. MINE. DON’T LET IT BE TAKEN AWAY. _ Juris roared in her head. A window shattered and a squall swept around the room, showering every available surface with snowflakes. Zoya sank to the floor, clutching her head. It hurt, it was cold, she couldn’t think-

Someone was clutching her shoulders, barking commands. She blinked and focused on the golden figure on his knees. Nikolai. His eyes were panicked and his mouth moved rapidly, but his voice was muffled and she couldn’t make out the words. Her gaze drifted and she found Princess Ehri looking terrified in her golden gown. A wedding gown. The wedding.

Guests were on their feet, unsure of where to go. The grisha around the room were in defensive positions. Zoya’s sluggish mind struggled to come up with a solution. She had to salvage this- 

“Stay here. Finish the wedding, I’ll investigate the disturbance with my grisha,” she told Nikolai as she got to her feet clumsily. The church tilted sickeningly and she prayed she wouldn’t fall over. Nikolai looked up at her, worry etched into every line on his face. “Zoya-”

“Go,” she snapped. Genya appeared at her side and took her arm. Zoya never loved her friend more. “We’ll take care of it,  _ moi tsar _ .”

Genya hurried them out the door and before they swung shut, Zoya could hear Nikolai starting to appease the guests. If anyone could do it, he could. Genya sent the grisha that had followed them outside to secure the perimeter, then turned to Zoya. Zoya stared at her shoes. 

“You broke the window, didn’t you?”

“Not on purpose. Juris-” At the mention of his name, another hot flash of pain went through her head. She groaned and sat down, ignoring the cold seeping through her kefta. “We had a disagreement. I don’t-”

Genya gasped. “Zoya, look at me.”

Zoya obeyed, confused. 

“Your eyes. They’re silver.”

Cursing, Zoya yanked back the sleeves of her kefta. Her fetters were warm and glowing like they’d recently been thrust into a fire. “Juris. Give it a few hours, they’ll probably change back.”

Genya looked skeptic, but helped Zoya back to her feet. “I’ll take you back to your chambers. You need rest.”

Zoya let the other woman lead her to the castle. A minute later, the bell in the church steeple started tolling. It was done. Juris laughed at her.  _ You are a coward, Zoya Nazyalensky. _

**Author's Note:**

> Follow @wafflesandkruge on tumblr for more writing and updates! There might be a prequel to this.


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